Heartless
by I Hate Allergies
Summary: Sally/Sherlock. Pre-RF. Sherlock is captured by Moriarty for a game and Sally Donovan is thrown in there as a variable. Rated T for language. Read and review! Complete!
1. The Detective, The Cop and the Warehouse

Sally Donovan had fallen asleep on her sofa, one leg draped over the back of the couch and a thick book clutched to her chest. It was all of the Chronicles of Narnia compiled into one book for convenience. After putting on her silk night gown, she had decided to drift off to sleep reliving her childhood.

She was having a dream; it wasn't particularly strange but it felt alarming none-the-less. She was small, a twelve-year-old again, wearing her primary school uniform and she was walking through a large, nearly empty room.

The only thing occupying the room was a large wardrobe that was ornately designed. She felt a sense of foreboding but walked towards it anyway. The walk seemed to take hours even though the room wasn't that big. She felt like she was moving in slow motion. Finally reaching the doors, she traced it with her fingers as far up as her short arms would let her. She could nearly reach the top on her tip-toes.

Gripping the brass handle of each door, she twisted the knob slowly a pulled. A bright light shone from behind a row of coats. She squinted into it but couldn't see anything. Soon, the light was growing bigger and brighter. It encompassed her.

Sally sat up breathing heavily as if she'd been holding her breath in her sleep. Looking around she realized she couldn't see much. She had taken out her contacts and she didn't need her glasses to read. She felt around for them blindly before feeling the familiar small plastic frames. Sliding them on, she felt dread wash over her.

She was not in her apartment. She was in a dimly lit warehouse lying on the cold stone floor. She shivered and stood up, breaking out in goose flesh. Looking around, she hopped from foot to foot because the cold was starting to become painful. She spotted a small tele nearly completely blocked by a stack of crates. She ran towards it, only stopping for a second to think that maybe she should go outside first. She decided to at least check out the tape first. She wouldn't be here if it would be so easy to escape by just walking out the door.

Sally gave a surprised yelp. The last person she expected to see was tied to a chair facing the TV. It was Sherlock Holmes and his head was lolling back and to the side as if his neck was made of rubber. She ran to him, feeling a bit concern for the man she despised. But who couldn't help but feel sorry for a man who was bound and gagged with at least a mild concussion?

She checked his fluttering eyes first, not yet ready to remove the piece of cloth that kept him quiet. His pupils we're dilated, but that didn't tell her much because they were in low light. Then she saw a stream of blood dripping from a cut on his hair line. She finally removed the scarf from his moth and dabbed at the cut. He tried to talk, stringing incoherent words together.

"Shhh, don't talk," Sally whispered kindly. "Please," she deadpanned. She wasn't about to let him stay on that chair, but if she was kidnapped with the Freak, she wouldn't put up with his abuse.

He ignored her command however till the words he wanted to say played out in the correct order. "…vid…pl…play…Mor… play…the… video." His voice was so weak it worried her. But on the plus side, this was the longest the Freak had gone without being a smart ass. She walked over to the TV and pushed play.

She was greeted by a close-up of a smiling face. Quite literally. "Hello, Sally." He shifted as if he was trying to peer around her shoulder. "Hello, Sherlock." His movement was so accurate it seemed like he was interacting with them in real time. She shivered, this time not from the cold and backed away.

Sherlock was slowly regaining his senses. He had been on a stroll to clear his mind when they'd picked him up. Now his mind felt foggier than ever. They had simply slowed down next to him and said, "You really shouldn't walk around alone at 1 am." They pair pointed a gun at him. He raised his hands and an eyebrow before sliding into the back of the black BMW.

Before he could react, they thug on the passenger's side stuck a needle into his leg and pushed the plunger. He knocked it out of his leg quickly, but could feel numbness spread from the injection site rapidly. _Brilliant,_ he thought not at all sarcastically. _Making me unconscious so that I won't remember the route they travel or the time it takes me to get to the destination. They don't have to blindfold me or tie me up because I'll just look like a sleeping passenger. This will be entertaining._

He woke up fuzzy head and strapped to chair. Moriarty's face was paused on the television screen in front of him. The television was on a rolling cart and the thug that had driven him here was locking the wheels so that it wouldn't roll away.

"I'm awake now. You might as well play Moriarty's message." Sherlock was calm. He'd been in worse situations. It would be easy to figure a way of escape. One scenario would end with him driving the thugs BMW back to London.

The criminal looked at him with a sick smile. "Player 2 isn't here yet."

Sherlock's confidence fell just a bit but he didn't let his face show it. He went over in his mind of who it could be. The most obvious choice was John. Sherlock doubted that Moriarty would put him with his best friend. Maybe it was Mycroft. If Sherlock wanted to torture himself, he'd lock himself up with his brother. But Mycroft was to high-up; too well protected. Mrs. Hudson? Sherlock hoped against that more than doubted it. Here he was letting his emotions get in the way of his deductive skills. He needed to think.

His thought process was interrupted by a door opening loudly somewhere Sherlock couldn't see. He turned his head sharply to the side. He saw the driver of the BMW walk past carrying a person over his shoulder and something clutched in his right hand. He recognized the mass of spiraled brown hair almost immediately. It was none other than Sally Donovan draped unceremoniously over the man's shoulder, arms dangling limply.

This was a surprise for sure. "Hey!" The guy didn't turn around. "Why did Moriarty choose Sergeant Donovan? There girl is barely there half the time, not clever at all, and she hates me (_Wonder why,_ the thug thought sarcastically). What's the point?" Sherlock was agitated and it was starting to show. He felt like he didn't know something and he didn't like it at all.

"Shut up or you'll wake your friend."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh right-" Sherlock didn't finish his sentence. He was pistol whipped into silence and he could only sit there and watch the room spin as he was gagged. The pair left quickly after that and soon he heard the stirrings of Sally Donovan. His brain was too muddled to think though he just hopped she'd find him.

"Congratulations," Moriarty said. "If you're watching this, it means that Sally Donovan was smart enough to watch this video before trying to escape. Sherlock, I like games. I enjoy them so much. And right now, you two are in my game.

"If Sally hadn't been smart enough to watch this video, you two would be dead right now. But it seems the first test was passed. Ever window, every door that leads to the outside is unlocked. In theory, you could walk out if here right now if you wanted unscathed. But in that theory, I hadn't rigged every door and window to explode if opened from the inside. There is one exit that is booby trap free, but good luck in finding that one.

"The object of this game is to not die. You still have your phones, if you had it on you at the time you were picked up, but the GPS has been permanently disabled. If you can find a way to tell them where you are, you are free to go. If you find the exit that isn't rigged with explosive you are free to go. The only rule is: Don't die."

The video cut to black and Sherlock closed his eyes, the pain in his head getting to him a bit. Before he got too comfortable, the video cut back on. Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

"Oh and Sally, I bet you're wondering why you're here." Sally stiffened, her eyes wide with fright. "Right well, Sherlock can get a bit boring sometimes. He'd try any old door if he was here long enough by himself. He'd let himself die after a while. I put you there so that he wouldn't give up. Give him some urgency. Why you? Well, we wouldn't want to spoil all the surprises now would we?"


	2. Ass

She untied Sherlock's hands and feet, losing the gentle the gentle touch she had before the video. It seemed that she was being intentionally rough to Sherlock. "It's always your fault, Freak." She pushed her glasses up on her nose and glared him, hoping up on a crate to give her feet a break from the cold floor.

"I didn't drag you from your home. If you didn't notice, I was here, tied to a chair and pistol whipped. Not what I call 'incriminating evidence.'" He was looking at her looking at him with an accusatory stare.

"And why am I here? Because of you. That guy brought me here because he wanted to make this harder for you. I don't even know why. He could have at least picked someone who actually cares about you. Someone you actually care about. John perhaps. You love the fellow."

"Yes, well, John would be too helpful in this situation. Moriarty wanted this challenge to be difficult." Sherlock was rubbing his rope-burned wrists, not looking at the sergeant who was now absolutely livid.

"That's the thing with you! This isn't a game! Your life, my life, it isn't a game! I could die here. I don't wanna die here and all you can think about is fascinating it is that we have to fight for our lives. You are seriously screwed up in the head. You put the 'ass' in 'Asperger's.'"

"That's what you've told me on multiple occasions. Keep saying that and I may believe it one day." He took the gag and tied it on his head so that the cut on his forehead was completely covered. "The quip about Asperger's is new." He let himself give half a smile at that one.

"It's a wonder that your nose is still straight because this is about 29th time that I've wanted to punch it." She was shivering now, teeth chattering while still staring daggers at the man before her.

He saw her, swung off his top coat with a flourish and tossed it to her with a glance. She took it unwillingly. "Moriarty is treating it like a game so we have to play it like one. He is twisted, even more than I am. This won't be straight forward at all." He ran a hand through his curly hair then looked back at Sally with his serious, pale eyes. "I'm sorry you were put in to this situation but I will do everything to get you out of here alive." Sally just stared.


	3. No Shit

His coat was way too long for her but hardly too wide. She buttoned it up and rolled up the sleeves before rolling them down again. She was too cold. She was glad the Freak was also freakishly tall. She stood on the tails of the coat, feeling the warmth spread back through her now that she didn't have direct contact with the floor.

Sherlock had gone silent after his promise to her. She assumed he was thinking so she left him to his process. She had to wonder though, when he went over to the far wall and positioned himself so that he was sitting on a crate upside down.

She had let him sit alone with his thoughts for nearly 20 minutes but she couldn't stand there any longer. The silence was getting to her. It was almost like being afraid of the dark. You aren't afraid of the dark, per se, you're afraid of what's in it. Every second that there was complete silence, she felt it closing in her. Like that psychopath Moriarty was creeping in every shadow. She wished she wasn't here. She wished she'd never met Sherlock Holmes. She wished she'd never become a cop. She wished that none of this was real, that Sherlock Holmes or Moriarty weren't real. She wished she could just wake up from this bad dream. A bad dream she was having the night before she signed up for the Police Academy. She hopped beyond hope that this was a bad dream that she would soon wake up from because she could tell that the worst part was yet to come.

She took another look at Sherlock. His face was red and his face was slightly contorted as if he were somewhat constipated. The funny thing was that the only laughable thing about that sentence was that the Freak could feel anything besides irritation, boredom and disdain.

"Sherlock!" She yelled in a whisper shout. "Oi! Freak!" His face straightened immediately. She recognized his annoyance and didn't care. She was just happy for a distraction.

"I require silence to think Donovan. You were doing so well up until now." He was still upside down looking at the Sergeant with distaste.

"I can't just sit here. I'm driving myself insane I need to keep moving, I need to hear words or I just might go off the deep end." She started to pace back and forth, something that Sherlock did often. This was so different from his brand of pacing; it almost couldn't be considered the same thing. When Sherlock paced, he knew where he was going and his steps seemed deliberate and determined. When Sally paced, she tip-toed and looked towards the sky. She was unsure in her steps and unfocused in her thoughts. Sherlock made a mental note of this he didn't know why.

"I'd offer you my phone," Sherlock said deftly flipping of the crate. "But I'm saving the battery for when we have actual clues and details to send."

"Don't be ridiculous. Now I was thinking that we should go through this door right here. All the walls have windows except this one. It probably means that this warehouse or whatever continues on; no explosives rigged to this door." She stopped and looked at him, obviously looking for approval from her unwilling partner.

Sherlock was impressed. It was a rudimentary deduction, something that he'd figured out ages ago, but it was the first time he'd seen her use her brain. "Impressive. If only you could use that deductive reasoning during a murder case."

Another backhanded comment of course. "I'm sorry normal humans can't turn off their emotions at the sight of a body. Honestly, the way look at a dead person, it's like you have no respect for human life at all."

"First of all, it isn't human life. If it was human life, they wouldn't be dead. Second, it's funny to get a lecture on morals from a woman who had an affair with a married man. Quite less moral than solving crimes, isn't it?"

Sally had never walked so fast in her life. She slapped him so hard his whole head moved with the force of it. Her whole face was seething with hatred, face red with a combination of rage and embarrassment, her eyes where glassy with tears of fury. The Freak turned back to face Sally slowly, a trickle of blood slowly sliding down his left nostril. She felt extremely satisfied.

There was pressure in her chest, tight and uncomfortable, and then she realized that she had forgotten to breathe. "Sherlock Holmes," her voice was low and dangerous, venom seething from every syllable. "You can stay the FUCK away from me," she said, poking him hard in the chest, "you insensitive, unkind, cold, pasty-faced prick of a detective!" She had poked him for every trait. "You are a sorry excuse for a human being! Brilliant, undeniable, but if everyone in the world were as brilliant as you, the human race would have died out ages ago. You are a cold, calculating, machine. I feel sorry for John Watson. He truly is a good man. He has to live with your shit daily. I don't know how he could stand it. Once we get out of here, I hope I never see you again."

With that Sergeant Sally Donovan turned on her heel and started to unbutton the coat the Freak had loaned her, mumbling words under her breath. She had never felt so offended in her life even from him. Part of her knew it was true, but she had broken things off with Anderson months ago. She felt horrible enough about the situation without the heartless man reminding her of her past transgressions.

As soon as he finished the sentence, he knew that he may have gone too far that time. His suspicions were confirmed as her small hand slapped his cheek with amazing force. That hurt quite a bit and would continue to sting for a while. Not to mention the blood nose he could already feel.

He looked back to the Sergeant wearing an expressionless max. She began to berate him with insults and finger poking. Sherlock let her get her fill of insults because he felt like he deserved it. Even if he had been completely truthful this may have not been the time nor place to bring it up. The only part in her string of abuses that bothered him was the bit about John. He flinched inwardly.

He was confused, if only for a millisecond, when she turned around dramatically flaring his coat. Then it dawned on him the Sergeant would be heading towards the only door she deemed safe. The thing is, Sally Donovan didn't know James Moriarty. Nothing was safe. Nothing was easy. Walking through that door was too easy.

"Sal- Donovan! Do not open that door!" She was still too busy fumbling with the coat and didn't necessarily care what Sherlock Holmes had to say anyway.

Sherlock ran like a rugby player towards Sally Donovan, the Sergeant who didn't know that the door would end with her death just like any door.

Sally's hand was gripped tightly on the door handle the only thing that stopped her from turning for a second was the sight of a crazy eyed Sherlock Holmes less than half a meter away from her. _This is how I die, _was all Sally Donovan could think. The handle was halfway turned when Sherlock tackled her and the force of them falling to the ground completed the rotation.

A lot of things happened at once. The loudest of all was a bang. Sally landed painfully on her back, the long coat just barely staying on her shoulders. Because she had unbuttoned it was splayed around her in an odd fashion. Sherlock lay on top of her breathing deeply and searching her face for signs that she banged her head on the cement floor. Satisfied that she was only dazed because of the tackle, he rolled of her and sighed looking at the bullet hole in the wooden door. It was at a height that would have shot Sally in the head or Sherlock in the heart.

"The door was rigged so that it would shoot you in the head or me in the heart if we just walked in there without thinking." He hadn't quite lost his breath but he was still lying on the ground calming his heartbeat.

She looked from the bullet hole in the door to her savior then up at the ceiling breathing heavily though she did no running. All she could think to say was "No shit, Sherlock."


	4. Hapless

**Sorry if Sherlock or Sally is OOC. Also sorry because this is short. It's been going long, short, long, short it seems. I don't have a word limit I just find a nice place to stop thanks for the favorites and the Alertrifacations? And to the one review, even though it's been only a few hours since I put up the first three chapters. Also sorry because I'm an American. Sometimes I just don't nail the British culture and sensibilities as well as I'd like.**

Sally sat up and hugged her knees. Her glasses hadn't flown off when he tackled her and for that she was grateful. The frames were cheap pink plastic because she thought she would never even wear these outside. She pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose turned her head away from the Freak.

Sally was angry that he'd saved her. She knew she should be glad that Holmes had saved her from a closed-casket funeral; it still didn't make up for the fact that he had insulted her for maybe the thousandth time. With those sentences, though, he'd gone too far. Before, she had many reasons to hate him. After, she had every reason. Then he had to go a save her life. She wanted to throttle him and hug him at the same time. Throttling was ahead by hair.

"Thanks," She said dutifully. She could at least do that much. Thank him for lengthening her time on Earth even if she spent it loathing his existence.

"You're welcome," he replied thoughtfully. He looked over at the back of Sally's head all he could see was her curly mane and his black coat. "Sally, I-"

"No." She said firmly. She turned to glare at Sherlock before turning away again. "No. I won't accept your apology, Freak, so you can just save it for some who cares. Can't be too many I imagine."

He didn't try again. Instead, he just asked, "Are you hurt?" He stood up and held a hand out to help Sally. She ignored it.

"What do you think? I was just tackled by a tall, skinny, high-functioning sociopath."

"From the trajectory of the fall, it looks like you landed on your back and to the left. You'll have bruises, definitely; maybe a bruised coccyx."

Sally rolled her eyes so hard her whole head moved with it. She removed his coat, suddenly repulsed by the feel of it. "What now, Freak? Where do we go now? If every single door is blocked, how the hell do we get out?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She was tired of hearing that question come from the Freak's mouth. "He wants us to continue through that door or he would have made sure it killed us. That was a onetime trap."

"Great, I'm always thrilled to hear that our best option is to go through the door that's least likely to kill you."

"Well we could go through the door that's most likely to kill us, but even someone of your intellect could see that that's a bad idea."

That didn't even bother her. She was used to his abuse by now and nothing could top what he'd said to her earlier. "After you, Freak."

He walked towards the door and eyed the wood. He slipped his coat back on before rubbing his hand of the rough wood.

"Open the door, don't make love to it."

"Donovan, your lackadaisical use of English language never ceases to amaze me."

"My abuse of the English language is nowhere near as bad as your abuse of people."

He swung the door open, and inspected the pistol rig. When the handle was turned, the pistol went off. It was in a complicated harness that made the door heavy. He thumped it and moved on. "Stay close. I can only keep you alive if you work with me."

"I am not a hapless damsel in distress. I can protect myself."

"Clearly."


	5. Arithmetic

**I have never been so motivated to write a story in my life. This is good news if you like this story. This is bad news if you are anything else in my life that requires attention. Read Review all that Jazz. And again sorry if there OOC, but they have to be just a little, or they wouldn't fall in love. **

The next room was odd. It was filled ice. Blocks of ice big and small stacked up along the walls. Sally was shivering but still refused his coat.

"Blocks of ice. That's random." She could see her breath in front of her but tried to keep her quivers to a minimum. Somehow, she felt like she was retaining what dignity Sherlock Holmes had let her keep after his comment.

"This is James Moriarty. Nothing is random. Everything means something."

Sally huffed. "You have a flare for the drama, Freak." She blew a breath into her hands to warm them and her glasses fogged up.

"'Do you enjoy Mathematics?'"

"What?"

"Come on, Donovan, try to keep up. It's scratched into the door. 'Do you enjoy Mathematics?'" He traced the crude letters with his fingertips and rubbed his smooth chin with the other hand. "The next task must deal with that. And I forgot to bring my calculator."

"I'm glad you're all jokes about this. We could be walking to our death and you make a joke about a calculator. Unbelievable."

"At least I don't have test anxiety. Stand back. I'm going to open the door." He had her move out of the way, though he doubted that Moriarty would use the same trap twice. He hated boredom just as much as Sherlock did. One hand lightly touching the door handle; he twisted and pulled it open.

Dim lights flickered on. Two desks some ten meters apart from each other were placed in the room. They looked like writing desks but it was odd because they were tall enough to stand at. They each had their own desk lamp and a metal cuff that was attached directly to the wood. On each writing desk was noise cancelling headphones, a repurposed iPad and a small metal box.

"Sally this is the next game. A quiz. You'll have to lock your wrist up and answer the math questions in order to free yourself. The noise cancelling headphones are so I can't help you. But when I free myself, I come over and help. Don't worry."

Sally didn't say anything. She just walked to her desk quietly. She didn't understand Sherlock Holmes. One minute, he's a psychopath, the next minute he's the biggest wanker in the world and then there were times like this when she felt like he was almost human. Of course, he'd ruin it two minutes later, but still. She slipped on the head phones and warily put her wrist into the cuff; all the while watching Sherlock do the same.

The cuffs closed automatically around their wrist and a small red light blinked to life. The iPads came to life by themselves.

"Hello and welcome. This is a test. No cheating allowed." Moriarty's face was grinning. "You have 4 minutes to save the world." He laughed at his own stupid joke. "Just kidding. You have 4 minutes to save yourselves by answering the questions or there will be shocking consequences. Once the test is over the boxes will unlock and you can use the key to open the next door. Any questions?" Sally didn't say anything but the recording of Moriarty addressed the question she was thinking. "Why am I doing this? Because I can." His face was dark and menacing now. She didn't know which one was worse. "But it's just you two here. Believe me, there are worse things I could do." Suddenly his face was bright and happy again. "Happy testing."

Thirty seconds in and Sally felt out of her depth. The math was simple but imminent death distracted her. She'd answered two questions in 30 seconds when it only should have taken her 10.

"Congratulations. You saved a life." The iPad screen went black and he looked over to Sally who still intently focused. He took off only to be knocked down. His wrist was still in the cuff and the light was still on. Sally's light was off however. It hit him then that he had the power over her cuff and she had the power over his.

Sally glanced at the time remaining; 2 minutes and 46 seconds. She was hoping that Sherlock would have been done with his quiz by now but she was still struggling alone. She glanced over at him. He was on the ground staring at her with a quick glance at her wrist. She looked at both of the cuffs. Sherlock's light was still on but hers was not. She tried to unhook it but it was still locked even it wasn't electrified. She realized that she had to finish this or Sherlock would die. She spared one more glance toward him but now his face was expressionless.

One minute and eighteen seconds to go. Four more question. She felt bad for Sherlock. Her inability to perform under pressure was going to be the death of him. But then her mind thought, _Do not give yourself a reason to pity Sherlock Holmes._ Suddenly the math made a little more sense.

She glanced at Sherlock whose mask was beginning to crack. His face was pale and the light on his cuff began to blink, building up pace as the timer got closer to zero.

Ten. Sherlock gave a futile jerk against his restraint. Nine. He willed the right answer to her. Eight. He hoped it would be painless. Seven. He accepted that it would be. Six. He pulled on the cuff one more time. Five. He closed his eyes and held his breath.

He cried out when his wrist was suddenly released. He fell back with a thud and let out a hiss when he caught himself with his left arm. His wrist was red and raw. Sally Donovan picked up his left hand gently.

She moved his wrist, gauging the reaction on his face. "Looks like a minor sprain." Then she could help but grin a little. "I think the great Sherlock Holmes was panicking."

He sighed, hopping up and careful of his left wrist. "I was heading for death and no amount of clear headedness could have saved me. It felt like a good idea at the time." He tried to work his wrist without the help of Sally. That hurt worse.

"I thought the great Sherlock Holmes hated being bored. This was far from boring." She peered at him through her glasses.

"It isn't as fun when you're the one being saved."

"You don't say," said Sally sarcastically. She went back to the desks and gathered the keys that would lead them to the next room.


	6. Golden

**Why u no review? I swear, if I don't get more reviews, Sherlock and Sally will only talk in memes. Ok not really. Just a side note: I made my desktop background a picture of Benedict Cumberbatch. It was supposed to be inspiration but it was the biggest distraction. Sigh. And thanks to Historianic. He or she acted as my Skull/Watson even if he or she did not realize.**

"I feel like I'm in a cross between _The Philosopher's Stone _and _Saw._"

"What's that, some sort of drug?" he asked absentmindedly. He stuck the keys into the door with the twin key holes and twisted them in unison.

"You're kidding right? Harry Potter? Those horrible American gore movies?" His removal from society was really shocking sometimes.

"I've deleted far more useful information than movies. Honestly, I find such pursuits… trivial."

She laughed. Sherlock Holmes made her laugh. "I see what you did there."

He turned around and looked her in the bespectacled eyes. "What did I do there?" His mouth was slightly parted and he had that perplexed look she hardly ever saw him where.

"You're kidding right?" She took his silence as a 'no.' Shaking her head, she said, "Let's just go. Come on. Let's get out of here." She pushed him through the door. Under her breath she mumbled, "Sherlock Holmes, 221b Under a Rock."

He stumbled in with her gentle push and she followed behind closely. The room was pitch-black. She felt a gust of wind as the automated door shut behind her.

"This room doesn't have instructions." She felt compelled to whisper by the darkness. "What happens know?"

Sally could hardly tell in the dark but Sherlock had turned back to the door and felt it around. "The door is covered in braille. I can read it."

"You can read braille but you've never heard of Harry Potter?"

He ignored her. "'Have you ever heard of Silent Library? No, probably not. Hopefully Sally knows. Your lives depend on it. If you lose the door on the other side won't open. Shhh.' What is Silent Library?"

"A show where they do things to people to make them laugh… or scream… get too loud and you lose the game." She didn't know Moriarty, but she doubted he had a giant sumo wrestler out there to tickle them.

"Right, well stay close, grab my hand and no more talking until we're on the other side. Whatever you do, don't let go."

He walked slowly, one hand out front and the other being gripped by Sally. Sally remembered that the hand she held was attached to a sprained wrist. She wanted to make sure he was ok but he'd said no talking and he hadn't complained yet so she just made sure not to jostle it too much.

Suddenly he stopped. Turning around, he tossed his coat to Sally. She was puzzled but put it on anyway. She felt out for him once it was buttoned. Sherlock grabbed her hand and attached it to the back of his belt. She knew that his wrist must have been bothering him and she felt a wave of guilt.

He began to walk again, even slower than last time. His breathing got heavy and it hitched every once in a while. Then she realized why. She was walk through a narrow passage way and the walls were barbed, snatching at her hands and her face. Crying out wasn't an option so she just bit her lip. Gratitude spread through her as she felt a barb rip away a piece of Sherlock's coat.

Sherlock heard and felt a crunch as he stepped out of the barbs. There was broken glass on the floor. Not a problem for him unless it was a particularly big piece, but Sally had been barefoot. He tried to block her from exiting but she'd walked too fast.

It took all of Sally's being to not cry out. She had unintentionally held her breath and when she let it out, she could stop herself from letting out a low wail. Sherlock immediately clapped his hand over her mouth. For some reason, she leaned into it suddenly putting most of her weight on him.

He pulled her close to him and put his mouth directly next to her ear. Suddenly an explicably, she felt tingly inside; her foot almost forgotten. She was glad is no one could see a thing or he would have seen her blush. She was sure he felt the heat in her cheek, though. Sherlock whispered. "Get on my back."

She wasn't expecting that, and didn't know why she didn't expect it. Even if she was thinking clearly, a ground covered in broken glass was the worst place to do it. She decided to never think about this again. It was harder to do though as she clambered onto his back. This closeness without boiling hatred was new to her.

He turned his head so he could whisper the orders into her ear with ease. "One arm out front. Signal me if you feel something."

Sally just nodded. She didn't think about what the signal should be. The crunching glass under their combined weight sounded like thunder in her ears. It seemed like they were walking through the veritable minefield for hours even though it couldn't have been more than several minutes. An image of Sherlock slipping popped into her mind, making her heart skip in terror. That would be the end. She cursed her mind for thinking that way.

Abruptly the crunching glass stopped and soon after so did Sherlock. Sally expected him to put her down but he just adjusted her weight and continued on.

Sherlock wished he could have stopped Sally from stepping on the glass but she had probably got snagged on a barb and was just trying to pull herself free. He was impressed with her durability though because she didn't cry out, at least, not immediately.

He heard her groan and clapped his hand over her mouth. He understood her need express but he wanted to make sure that they didn't get too loud. There was no meter to tell them so he assumed you find out was try to open the door.

Sherlock grabbed her and pulled her close, whispering his command directly into her ear. Her face felt warm against his cool cheek, probably from the task of holding in her scream. He'd take a look at her foot once they were into the next room. Hopefully it would not require much more than a tetanus shot.

He turned his head and whispered the plan into her ear and she felt her head nod against his shoulder. Her left arm was hooked tightly onto his chest and the right arm was out in front. The walk through the glass felt long but soon it was over. He stopped just long enough to make Sally more secure on his back.

Sally was light; 62 kilos at the most and a lot of that was muscle. It was easy to carry her but Sherlock didn't think that it would be this easy. He was good with small burst of energy but sustaining using his muscles was not his area. He was ok for now and probably would be for the time being but he knew this wouldn't be the case the next day.

He was interrupted from his musings by a light tapping on his chest. He stopped. Sally had hit something cold, metal and heavy, yet it still moved.

Sherlock made sure Sally was on securely before he walked even slower this time. The metal object turned out to be a series of them with just enough room to walk between each one. Sherlock wasn't sure if he could walk through the whole thing with Sally on his back but that problem was solved for him.

With a low thud, Sally was nearly knocked off of Sherlock's back having hit her head on some sort of bar. Her hold on him loosened and Sherlock nearly fell over himself trying to keep her from harm.

After regaining his grip he gently set Sally on the ground and gripped her hand. She was glad he was going slowly because, with her foot, she couldn't do much more than half her normal pace.

Five minutes in to the maze and Sally bumped one of the metal columns a little too hard. It tapped the column next to it making a clanking noise. Neither Sherlock nor Sally could tell how loud it actually was; they had been in silence far too long to judge precisely. They just froze, not daring to breath. Sally could feel her heart thudding in her chest. Surely it would set off the sensors, she thought wildly.

After a few minutes of Sally's eyes darting around in the complete darkness, Sherlock tugged on Sally's arm gently willing her on. She followed after him faster this time even though they just had near miss.

Soon they were free of the metal forest. Sherlock scooped up Sally in his arms, much to her surprise, and continued on. What was probably a normal walking speed felt like break neck pace to her. Sherlock was going to get them locked in this death trap.

Suddenly, Sherlock stopped. They were at the next wall but there was no door. The sound he was making, rubbing against the wall to feel for a door, sounded like huge waves crashing around her. She realized that it was all starting to get to her psychologically, but that didn't stop her from freaking out. She went rigid in Sherlock's arms.

After what felt like an hour searching around for the door, Sherlock finally found it. Not too soon, it seemed, because Sally had stopped moving a while ago, probably from an internal panic attack.

He felt around the door and found the latch, which felt like it was a part of a large complicated locking system. He pulled.

**Thank you very kindly for the reviews I have gotten so far. This took way longer than the others because I was struggling with the end. I didn't know what I wanted the last silent room challenge to be. Dousing them in black pepper to try to make them sneeze or unleashing 10 angry cats crossed my mind but I realized how stupid they were. Um so we are coming up on an ending people! Two more chapters and that is it, at least for this story. There will be more, if you are interested. **


	7. Sally Dee

**So I wake up and there are like 5 more reviews than there where yesterday. Thank you. It really makes me happy that I'm not the only one who enjoys this. The story is coming to a close. And I realize that there is hardly any romance in this but I think that makes it more real ya know? Fighting for your life shouldn't put sex on your mind. And they hated each other. And Sherlock is nearly asexual. I feel like he'd take the relationship slow. But anyway, hardly any romance but there will be more stories in this series and the next will focus more on their relationship.**

Sherlock squinted and Sally burrowed her face into his shoulder. This room was considerably smaller than the others with windows they could actually reach, not to mention bright. The sun was rising but it couldn't be seen because of the thick cloud cover. Parked in the middle of the room was a royal red convertible with cream leather seats. The hood was propped open and jumper cables were reaching from the engine to the door lock.

He sat Sally on the trunk and grabbed her bloody foot to inspect it. She looked up at him, slightly scared, and braced herself as he went to remove the biggest pieces.

Sally bit her thumb as she felt an odd, painful emptiness from where the pieces used to be. Sherlock was trying to be gentle but there was only so much he could do. They had been silent since they left that room. Even though Sally was in pain she refused to let a whimper escape her. She kept going strong for nearly five minutes but a particularly large piece came out and she couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Sonova BITCH, that smarts!" They both jumped as the door they'd just walked through slammed shut. "Oh, right, we can talk now." She peered over her shoulder. "Can we get out?"

Sherlock gently put her foot into a resting position before walking over to the other side of the room. He inspected the windows and door. The door was thick and metal and the window in the door and the wall was made from bullet proof glass. "Not by force," he replied finally. "The windows and door are still rigged to explode if we try to break out."

He rubbed his chin with one hand and the locking mechanism with the other. It was just telephone buttons with an LED display above them. The lock didn't seem to have power or a power button.

There was a message scrawled on the white wall in black sharpie. Sherlock read it aloud. "'It all goes together, but how?'" Sherlock glanced at the car then back to the locking system. "Everything is connected. It's not random. Elements, things that may not look like they have anything to do with each other do."

Sally looked at him. "Do you have any ideas?" She slid off the trunk and limped towards him, inspecting everything for herself.

"Not in the slightest," he replied faintly. Without a word he quickly ran back to the convertible and hoped in the back, sitting upside down and fingering an invisible violin. Sally sighed but knew better than to bother him.

Sherlock went over everything in his head but couldn't think of anything automatically. Moriarty communicated with the telly, an iPad, braille and sharpie. Maybe it was the consequences of staying in a room too long. Ice room freeze to death, the math room electrocution, the dark room pain. But this room? They could stay in here forever hypothetically. An idea popped into Sherlock's head. He jumped up.

"Sally, start the car and rev the engine. I might have an answer." He almost ran to the lock in excitement.

"What? What is it?" She asked but she limped to the car to do as she was told. Oddly, the steering wheel was on the left side of the car.

Sherlock ignored her touching the metal buttons of the number pad in turn. The car was on and she revved the engine and saw the display light up brightly. _Three Wise Monkeys,_ he mouthed as he typed.

After waiting for the system to be fully started, Sherlock put in his answer then pressed the star key.

The result was instant. Sherlock started to convulse before falling to the ground twitching. Sally ran over to him as fast as she could with her limp. "Sherlock! Sherlock, are you alright?" She checked his eyes before leaning him against the wall next to her.

He coughed. "Sudden shock for the wrong answer. I'm lucky my heart didn't stop." His heart felt weak but it was going three times its resting speed.

"I don't know how it didn't," she replied, feeling herself smile. "Lack of food and sleep should make your heart weak, yet here you are." She saw him smile faintly but he didn't say anything. "Sometimes I think you are a fairy tale, Sherlock Holmes."

He coughed again, feeling some of the strength return to his beating heart. "Turn off the car," he instructed. She stood up and helped him to his feet. His muscles were weak so Sherlock had to lean heavily on her. Her knees almost buckled under his weight but eventually she got him to lean on the window.

He looked out of it somberly, right hand toying with the depowered iPhone in his pocket. They were facing a sandy beach. The sun was on his left side so that meant that they were on a southern shore. If he could just see the exact positioning of the sun, he could call-

"Sherlock, the car won't turn off." She had been fiddling with the for a while. The key came out but the engine was still going.

They weight of that hit him. He sighed deeply and looked at Sally. "Ah. If we can't figure out the answer, he plans to suffocate us." Sherlock was calm. Death never really scared him but he enjoyed being alive.

This new development threw a hitch in his plan. He wouldn't have time to wait for their exact location. He turned on his phone and called Scotland Yard.

Sally stared at Sherlock listening hard to the one-sided conversation. "We're on a Sandy beach, not rocky and it's on the southern shore. It's beginning to snow." She spared a look out of the other window though she couldn't see any snow against the white clouds.

"Where are Mycroft and John? ...You found the BMW that took me? … Did you take samples to analyze? … Well do that… I know you aren't me, but you have to be more like me if Sally Donovan and I are to come out of this alive!" Sherlock took a deep steadying breath, glancing around the room. "Three and half hours at the most." He listened for a brief while before hanging up and turning of the phone.

_So this is how it ends,_ Sally thought grimly. Not in the line of duty, but sitting helpless, beaten and bruised. She felt her eyes sting with tears but she refused to let them fall which only increased her agony.

"Rev the engine again," Sherlock called out. "I may have an answer."

"No." She replied. He turned to face her. Her face was set and her arms crossed over her chest. She looked incredibly small all of a sudden. The convertible was big as far as cars go and she could hardly be seen from behind the wheel. Not to mention Sherlock's coat. It was hardly too big, but the length exaggerated it.

"You will not die on me Sherlock Holmes." She looked at him solemnly. "You don't have an answer you think is correct. If you take another shock like that you will die. You won't leave me here by myself."

"We can try this answer and have the possibility of death, or we can wait here and wait for certain death." He face was humorless.

"If you are so confident in your answer let me do it. Let me take the risk." There was a silent staring match between the two but there was no animosity in the gesture.

"Fine," he relented. He walked to the passenger side of the car and joined her. "What do you suppose we do while we wait for death?"

"Talk. Make our last hour not so miserable." She re adjusted herself so that she was sitting with her legs folded beneath her. "And we might not be waiting for death. Greg, John and your brother could be on their way."

He didn't say what they were both thinking. _I doubt it._ Instead, he asked, "What is there to talk about? Football?"

"Why not," She replied. "Why ponder the meaning of life if life is so close to being over? I'd rather talk about something that makes me happy." There was silence for a minute. "You play the violin, right?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. For 29 years. I hated it initially but now it's one of the few things that help me think."

"Impressive," she said with a smile. "I played flute from eleven to seventeen. I enjoyed it, but when I started university, I just sort of ran out of spare time for it. My favorite thing to do was play pop songs. Did you do that?" Then she thought. "Oh right. Sorry I forgot who I was talking to."

"To whom I was talking," he corrected, but he smiled. She smiled as well.

"Were you ever human, Sherlock Holmes?"

"Not at all. I never cried as an infant and my first word was 'Matriarch.'"

"I know you're joking but I still believe it. Truthfully I don't think you're inhuman. I just think you're mean sometimes… and tactless."

"You aren't the first to say that and-" he was about to add 'you won't be the last' but she might actually be the last.

"I've seen a side of you tonight that I never saw before. I've always wondered why John Watson stuck beside you for so long. You aren't completely insufferable all the time."

"I will choose to take that as a compliment," he said with a faint smile.

She grinned. "So do you watch movies? Or are you above that as well?"

"I watch documentaries. Fiction is so irrelevant. There's hardly any point to it."

"I disagree. Good fictional books and movies offer insight to life from different points of view. Just stay away from the crap ones." She thought for a second. "There is this movie, _Fight Club._ I think you'd like it."

"Oh? What is it about?"

"It's about… this guy." Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her vague description. "Sorry, I don't want to give too much away. I say one wrong word and you figure out the movie by just looking at the cover."

Sherlock was beginning to feel tired. It was getting harder and harder to think. His mind was just begging for a nice cold breath of fresh air to clear his mind but he knew it wasn't going to come.

"You had to have a favorite movie as a kid." Sally felt her voice beginning to slow. She wasn't sure if she could stay awake much longer but talking would help.

"I don't recall," Sherlock said. His eyes were closed now and his chest was rising and falling very visibly. His lungs were trying to get as much oxygen in as possible but they were struggling. He had it worse than her because of his years of smoking. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed it back as firmly as he could.

"I remember my favorite movie," she said vaguely.

**It's almost over folks. Thank you for sticking with me. As of now, I haven't put up the last chapter yet, but when I do, I want you to think before you go to the next chapter. Think about what you think is going on and get that idea in your head. Then go to the next and see if you were right.**


	8. Denouement

**So I checked the reviews and my jaw hit the floor. You guys are too much! I love you all so much. This story has gained a small but loyal following and my biggest fear is that you guys will be disappointed. I hope you love this chapter because I freaking love writing it. Enjoy.**

"_It got colder that's where it ends. So I told her we'd still be friends. Then we made our true love vow. Wonder what she's doing now. Summer dreams ripped at the seams but, oh, those Summer Nights."_

"What were you singing?" Sherlock asked laboriously. He didn't bother to open his eyes.

"A song from my favorite movie when I was kid. I thought it fit the drama of the moment."

He smiled. She was making jokes about her own death. It was quite the opposite of the Sally Donovan he started the night with. "What was it about?"

"A girl and a guy. They're in love but they are too different. So the guy tries to be more like the girl but that doesn't work out so the girl tries to be more like the guy and that works. Then they drive his car off into the sky."

"Sounds," _pant,_ "like a healthy," _pant, _"relationship." Sweat was starting to bead on his face and neck.

"Tell me about it…" Sally frowned. "No… it couldn't… why would he…" Sherlock opened one eye to peer at her.

She was going as fast as her oxygen deprived body would carry her. "What?" was all Sherlock could think to say. He couldn't follow.

She ran to the back of the car. "Thunderbird… 1950's, 1960's… HA! This Moriarty is one sick bastard."

She was pacing and smiling glancing at the car then to the lock. "Sherlock, rev the engine. I know the answer."

"Wait a minute." He was slightly more awake now. They were probably using their last reserves of energy before death. "Would you care to elaborate?"

She knew something Sherlock Holmes didn't understand. The realization of this didn't please her as much as it would have before last night though. "Isn't it obvious the ice, math trying not to scream, starting the car?"

Sherlock still had the look of being lost on his face. "Is this what it's like in your mind?" She wondered. "You understand everything so quickly and everyone doesn't follow what should be so simple?" She threw her hands up in the air limping and pacing. "I mean I've practically said the answer alrea-"

"Sally!"

"The ice. _I've got chills._ The math. _They're multiplying._ Staying silent. _I'm losing all control._ Starting the engine. _The power you're supplying._ When you answered wrong. _It's electrifying!_ That's 'You're the One That I want!" She tapped her mouth. "What did he say? Before the math thing? _There are worse things I could do._ We go together! Danny was in the T-birds!"

Sally limped over to the door smiling. "Grease. The answer is Grease. My favorite movie as a kid. It all fits. Now rev the engine, Holmes!"

That first breath of fresh air was the most amazing thing she'd ever felt. Sherlock stumbled after her, collapsing as soon as he was free. With each breath, he felt more and more awake. Sally had collapsed next to him on the hard concrete. Their gazes met and the stared for a while before breaking out into peals of laughter.

"Fuck you, Jim Moriarty!" She stuck her middle finger to the sky.

Sherlock just smiled feeling the snow fall onto his face. He let her have her victory for now, but he knew this couldn't be it. If Moriarty wanted them dead, they would be dead. James Moriarty had something up his sleeves.

"Come on, Sergeant." He stood up and helped her to her feet.

They had been in the middle of 3 newly built warehouses built on waterfront property. There were no towns or houses anywhere near, just a road parallel with the coast and green fields covered with new snow.

Sally was shaking violently from the cold. Despite have the coat, she was losing a lot of heat from her bare feet. Luckily, they didn't have much of a wait.

An old hatchback car pulled over for them. The driver was a man his early 20's with shocking red hair. "You two alright?"

_Western Sussex, _Sherlock noted from his accent. "Could you give us a ride to your nearest hospital?"

Sally's foot was wrapped. She'd have to use crutches until her stitches healed. She was exhausted but she didn't want to stay at the Brighton hospital any longer. Greg had brought her a change of clothes and she was slipping them on getting ready to leave.

Her nurse walked in. "Mr. Holmes would like to see you." Sally's face twitched to a smile. She hadn't seen Sherlock since he went to get his wrist x-rayed.

"Send him in." She was lacing up the shoe on her good foot when she heard someone clear their throat.

Surprise and then disappointment washed over her face for just second. Mycroft Holmes raised an eyebrow. "Hello, Sally."

"Mycroft," she greeted. "How is Sherlock?"

"His wrist is sprained but that shock he sustained has the doctors worried. They're making him stay overnight."

"I'm sure he'll pull through. He's like a roach; Tough and all that."

Mycroft smiled. "Indeed. I won't keep you much longer. Lestrade is waiting for you and my car is waiting for me. I just wanted to say thank you. You saved my brother's life."

"He saved my life too," she blushed slightly.

"But how often does Sherlock need saving? I think this ordeal reminded him that people need people, even if he doesn't act like a person all the time."

Sally felt herself nearly stand up for Sherlock Holmes. She stopped herself though. They were siblings after all; Mycroft probably knew better than she did. Instead Sally decided to ask him a question.

"Do you know what Sherlock's favorite movie was as a kid?"

Mycroft paused, not expecting that. After thinking he said, "I do not. But I do remember watching The Goonies with him. If he wanted me to do something for him from then on, I made him do the…" he paused, trying to remember what he wanted to say. "The Truffle Shuffle."

**If you don't know what the Truffle Shuffle is, Google it. I was debating on whether I should include this part or not but I thought it humanized him just a little bit more.**


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